Chances: Chapters 2 & 3 of 6

Chances: A tale crafted for Oxana. By Selfbondage, exhibitionism, outdoors Chapter 2 of 6: Brunch I hurried along the pavement with a quick step, keen to catch up with my pals who were probably already settled at Bourla. In my hand was the pilfered wallet; I wondered what lay inside and what it might reveal about the “Burberry man”. Honestly, I didn’t view it as theft; I fully intended giving it back. Still, there was a touch of pride in my makeshift stealth. Walking into the restaurant, I scanned for our group. They were easy to find. Three had their heads down on the table, elbows propped up—clear signs of hangovers. The other two still wore last night’s party outfits; it was plain they hadn’t slept at home. The best part of brunch is swapping tales from the previous evening. One by one, everyone shared what they recalled. I kept quiet, debating whether to confess my breach of the seventh commandment; truth be told, that isn’t my favorite sin to commit. We all laughed together over each other’s mishaps throughout the meal. Soon enough, the noise died down and eyes turned toward me—the last one left to speak up. One girl nudged me to begin. “So? What do you have to say for yourself? The quiet ones usually hide more.” Nervously, I took out the wallet and set it in the center of the table. After a pause, I blurted: “I stole it this morning.” Disbelief rippled through us. “What?” “Are you crazy?” “What were you thinking?” I calmed them down and recounted the whole story before refocusing attention on the wallet. “I figured I’d keep it safe for him.” Most saw right past me. We all wanted details about the man, reaching for the wallet simultaneously. Being the least hungover of us, I managed to grab it back. “Hold off! Everyone gets a look inside.” I opened it up; only calling cards were tucked in the credit card slots. I fanned them out on the table. Instead of a name, they simply said “The Conductor”. Below that was a mobile number and a post office box address. “Not much to go on there.” Then I checked the second compartment and spotted some photographs. At first, I was mildly stunned. The pictures featured young women, some nude, others in lingerie. We spread them out and looked closely together. After the initial surprise, we started noticing details. First, the age range of the subjects varied. Earlier shots were black and white, followed by early color snapshots from the 1970s, ending with more modern images. Altogether, ten photos covered roughly fifty years. The second detail concerned the settings. The background seemed consistent—a large burgundy drape. Although each woman’s pose differed, it was clear they were highlighting a piece of jewelry in every shot. I stared at the oldest picture. A lady wore delicate panties with her hands crossed over her chest, covering her breasts. Her right hand bore a substantial piece of jewelry. “What is that?” I asked, hoping someone knew. A friend jumped in quickly: “It’s a slave bracelet. It has fine chains attached to a ring that loops back to the band. Once locked on, you can’t remove the ring.” As we inspected the accessories more closely, it became obvious that each had a dominance/submission theme tied to it. There were collars and cuffs; waist chains, plus other creative ways of showing submission. “What will you do?” my friends asked. What will I do? I’m not sure. The photos fascinated me. They looked confident and powerful. Clearly, I had stepped into a private world. If I called him now, he’d know I’d seen these personal pictures. How would he react? I decided to wait until evening.

Chapter 3 of 6: The Phone Call I sat at my small dining table, wallet to my left and phone to my right. I could toss the wallet aside and be done with it. I considered this all day, but those images kept pulling me in. Those women intrigued me. I didn’t want to miss finding out more about their story. So, I picked up the receiver and dialed the number on the card. “Hello.” His voice had no inflection. He wasn’t asking who was calling; it felt like he already knew who it was. “Hello, is this ‘The Conductor’?” I asked shyly. “Yes, yes, it is. Are you that young woman with my wallet? I expected your call.” “I…th-thought so, I mean, I didn’t want it to get…,I…” “I understand. You wanted to keep it safe for me. That means a lot. The contents are precious to me. They represent a lifetime of memories and adventures. I’d be very happy to have them back.” “Yes. About the photos, I couldn’t help noticing them. They’re lovely. I was hoping you could tell me more about the women in them.” “I’d love to explain everything, but it would break confidentiality. I hope that’s okay.” Unhappy with his answer, I pressed on. “I was curious about the jewelry.” “Apologies, as mentioned, there is truly nothing else I can share without breaking trust. It’s enough that I lost the photos. These women have relied on me to protect them for years; decades in some cases. I’d like to say more, but it’s not something I discuss with everyone; frankly, most wouldn’t understand.” Undeterred, I risked one last question. “Why do you call yourself ‘The Conductor’?” “I am the conductor because I orchestrate events; I create situations. I give people chances to choose; they can walk away or take a leap of faith.” “I don’t quite get it,” I replied. “Yes, I see. It’s hard to grasp if you haven’t participated. Well, it’s getting late and I have an early meeting tomorrow morning. If you drop by Burberry’s sometime this week, just leave my wallet with the manager. I’ve arranged a small token of thanks for your trouble. Good night.” Again, our conversation ended abruptly, leaving me wanting more.

Opportunities continues in chapter 4